


out of mind, out of body

by bloodandcream



Series: Ship all the Ships [128]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Begging, Bondage, Bottom Dean, Fucking Machines, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, pinch of Daddy kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 15:23:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7763035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His body’s exhausted and aching and he’s pretty sure it’s not good for your dick to be this hard this long whether it’s on pills or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	out of mind, out of body

Dean’s going out of his fucking mind. Knees aching on the padded bench, his sweat is pooling on the plastic covered floor. He’s been on edge so goddam long - up and down and up and down - that his whole body is shaking. He couldn’t stop it if he tried. Tugging weakly where his wrists and ankles are tied to the bench, leather creaking, Dean sobs.

He’s gonna fucking lose it.

He’s already lost it. Several times. Cussed a blue streak the first time Cain turned the machine off, right when he was so fucking close. Begged with his filthiest whore niceties the second time Cain turned the machine off and promised anything, anything at all. Started crying the third time that Cain turned it off, bit fat tears spilling into puddles of his sweat as he hysterically pulled at the restraints. He’s pretty sure it’s been turned off a few more times, but Dean’s lost count.

His body’s exhausted and aching and he’s pretty sure it’s not good for your dick to be this hard this long whether it’s on pills or not.

The whir of the machine behind him is steady and smooth, lube slick hole fucked out so loose it doesn’t even make a wet suck noise around the thick dildo. Dean hates this machine - god he loves it so much. The first time Cain used it on him, Dean’d made a joke about how old Cain was getting. That was also the first time Dean’d had six orgasms in a night, dry by the end, steady pump of engine driven silicone turning him inside out and unrelenting.

Cain’s not going for a record on how many orgasms he can wring out of Dean this time. Nah. He’s seeing how many times he can get Dean right up to it then yanking the rug out from under him. It’s fucking disorienting and infuriating. Dean’s not sure what the point of this is. Unless it’s to drive him up the fucking walls.

Too over sensitive, arousal sour in his gut and battery acid in his veins, every slow thrust makes his shivering muscles tense and he’s gone past cramping. Fuck walking, Dean’s not gonna wake up for a week. Cain’s got the machine turned down to a weak ambling pace that gets the dildo deep into him and pulls it back so slow Dean can feel every ridge of veins moulded into the plastic.

He’s wrecked his throat raw screaming, moaning, fake canned porn to put on a show stripped away to groans ripped from deep, until he’s barely able to shudder out a desperate plea.

“Daddy….”

Twisting his head feebly to the side, Dean’s hiccuping. Cain lowers the book he’s reading to his lap, pulls his glasses off, and frowns at Dean.

Gone completely limp, body slip-sliding on leather and he’s all turned around, Dean hasn’t got any tears left. Just boy tender little whispers, “Daddy, please…”

Cain’s kind enough to put the book down, glasses on top of it, set on the polished wood side table beside the wing backed reading chair he’d dragged into the playroom.

Bare feet silent on hardwood floors, crinkling over plastic as Cain steps next to him. Turns the machine off. Buried to the base inside Dean and it feels like that thing is taking up all his insides, there’s nothing to feel but the seize of his ass clutching around it. Dean’s eyes roll back. It’s worse when it’s still.

“Don’t tell me I’ve worn you out already, boy.”

Chin gripped roughly, Cain pulls his face up. Dean can’t see straight. Five finger tips dig, anchor where there’s a hold on him.

“Thought you could go all night, isn’t that what you said?”

Dean’s not even sure what noise he makes, choking on his own spit and desperation.

“Why, it hasn’t even been two hours.”

“….. daddy.”

Cain smiles at him, drags a thumb across the bottom of Dean’s lip and he flicks his tongue out against it, tries to make it good, suck it like a cock but he can’t even close his mouth everything’s wide and loose.

“I suppose we’ll just have to work on your endurance more… vigorously.”

Dean wishes he could still fucking cry, like the pathetic slut he is. “Please, shit -“

Dropping his chin, Cain pats his cheek, slaps, get a hold on his hair and yanks. Crouching down in front of Dean, Cain waits for him to blink and to listen.

“Have you learned your lesson, boy?”

Dean wants to scream his answer but he only gets out a hoarse, “Yes”. Cain drops him.

The machine kicks back on with a vengeance, high speed, pumping into his ass hard enough Dean slides on the bench and the only thing really keeping him up is the restraints. His climax slams him, fucking blindsides him, he thought he was fucking wound up still when the thing was off but it’s like going zero to sixty and he’s pretty damn sure he blacks out.

Turns out, he can still scream.

He’s wrecked and fucked stupid. Feels empty when the machine pulls out. There’s a goddam draft. Dean’d laugh at himself but it’s sore enough even breathing makes him acutely aware of his tender muscles. A calloused hand slides down his back, deft fingers unbuckling the restraints. Dean fucking melts onto the floor, Cain guiding him.

It’s not quite the end. He’s trembling like a newborn, probably as ugly red and covered in fluids too. Can’t muster the strength to lift his arms or spread his legs wider when Cain unbuckles his belt and kneels between.

There’s no resistance when Cain hefts a leg up and fucks into his ass, snaps his hips in neat like a machine, lean and powerful and shit if Dean had any sanity left he wouldn’t be laughing. Giggling like a he’s high, breathy and pained.

Cain slaps him on the chest, ribs fit to burst, lifts the other leg and folds Dean in half till his bowed knees near touch his ears and he can’t breathe. Fucks him sloppy, comes deep and doesn’t stop, suck-fuck wet noises as Cain keeps going. Still has his shirt on. Hair starting to fall out of the pony tail, wisps across his face, blue eyes intense.

He stops eventually. Dean’s disconnected. Pliant as Cain gathers him up, more strength in that wiry frame that you’d think, carries him to the bathroom and sets him the tub. Cold of the porcelain jerks Dean to his senses for a moment and he watches Cain fiddling with the knobs to get the water going.

“Shit old man,” Dean croaks. “Think y’fucked me out’f my body.”

Cocking an eyebrow at him, Cain pats his knees, stands and kisses the top of his head. “Don’t be an insolent brat, and I won’t have to teach you a lesson.”


End file.
